


The council of old men.

by Lessa



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Oneshot, Unstable Uther, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lessa/pseuds/Lessa
Summary: At some point they had to decide not to revolt, and just tolerate a genocide. I need there to be a reason.





	The council of old men.

The candles were burning low when Gaius let himself in to Geoffrey’s chambers.

He was glad that the castle guards were accustomed to seeing him come and go at the end of many a day, but meeting anyone in these dark days was risky, meeting in the dark doubly so, but not nearly as dangerous as leaving the King’s presence before one was dismissed.

Already waiting for him were two of his oldest remaining friends.

Both men wore wearing expressions that matched the feeling in his chest right now, as he slumped into the third seat at Geoffrey’s table.

“So, the King’s madness progresses then.” Balinor stated bluntly.

Gaius sighed. The newly made Dragonlord had no love of euphemisms or untruths. He supposed that none of them had the luxury of time anymore for pretence.

“I must agree that it does seem that way. The natural treatments are of limited use, and those I would once have tried will only bring more deaths. I am afraid that he is lost in grief.”

Geoffrey nodded, brows knitted together. “Then I believe it falls to us, gentlemen, to decide what must be endured, a civil war and the hope of an infant king, or genocide under rule of a mad one.”

Gaius closed his eyes, the world crumbling to ashes around him. Not that it meant anything now of course, now everything was fire, and blood, and ashes, and rage. Whatever was decided in the small chambers of the Court record keeper, under cover of darkness, all in hushed voices, would cost him his soul and integrity.

“You know that the king has been… _generous_ enough to pardon me for past actions for being bloodkin, and his intent towards my- towards _her_. I cannot support the current course of action, but Geoffrey, you were in that council room earlier, Balinor, you have witnessed the confusion. He looks and no longer knows who I am. Any infant needs a regent, and with his mother and uncle dead, his aunt in exile, and my brother no longer able to recognise me, who would fill that position? We are too late my friends. Those who might have once supported me were the first to burn, perhaps he was not quite so lost to reason then. I have no heart for war, or power. Camelot is already trembling and vulnerable, and an open challenge to the crown would invite others. Anything left to Igraine’s child would be as burnt out a husk as your library. The cost of his life was too high for us to waste carelessly.”

Balinor didn’t hide his disgust. “You would condemn us all for the sake of one child, not old enough to sit unaided?”

Gaius flinched but met his eyes steadily. “I take no pride in my weakness Balinor, but I am and have always been a Healer. Look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would follow me on Kilgarrah, that you trust an _army_ would follow me long enough to stabilise an ailing kingdom and defend it against the vultures like Cenred. Long enough to raise a sane successor to the throne. The court is, as we speak, being filled with those who tell my brother what he wishes to

hear, what he _wants_ to be the truth, men and women whose loyalty can be bought by coin or the promise of power. I am no warrior Balinor. I would fall, by poison or sword, and without a man to lead them Camelot would fall. I have lost the last of my family today, but perhaps two old men may be able to protect the prince from the worst ravages of his father’s hatred and bloodlust.”

Balinor fell silent, considering the older man’s words, weighing them carefully, knowing they had little time.

“You are right. I would follow you my friend, and I could command Kilgarrah, but he will not willingly follow one he considers a traitor to Magic.” Gaius nodded gravely, the knife in his heart twisting a little further.

“I cannot stay here. You already knew that though, didn’t you.” Gaius smiled through his pain,

“Of course I knew that, boy. I have tried to find a better way, _any_ way that does not mean watching my brother descend into madness, and feed innocents to the flames. It is a nightmare

from which I cannot wake, and like everyone else, I cannot sleep.”

 

Geoffrey observed them carefully. “Well. As the only one who can claim to be unaffected in a direct way by this ‘Purge’ as it is being called, Perhaps I must take the responsibility of a final decision, as Gaius is relinquishing any claim he may have had- on grounds with which I must agree, having seen him lift a sword, and a bow. The knights will not follow one who cannot lead in battle in a time such as this. No one sleeps much now, the screams echo, everyone is under suspicion, the vile stench of burning flesh and the sheer brutality of the actions of men I once respected- men _without_ Uther’s troubles to justify their actions sicken me. I will never record this meeting, it will not have occurred. I wish with my whole being it never had to. On this night, this _terrible, endless night._ I must choose to condemn all those with magic, to save everyone else, and prevent a civil war, and a full razing of Camelot by our neighbours by witnessing a genocide.” Not one man among them fought the tears that came, everyone in the city was proficient by now at weeping silently.

  
“Balinor, I want you to go to Igraine’s sister. She left three years ago. I was training her as a physician, to take over. Quite a gifted young woman. Particularly compassionate and gentle, I let her handle the Seers in our care, until one day she simply fled from the ward after speaking with Gorlois’ Lady. I found her sobbing hysterically later, a set of her belongings packed, not a courtier’s dress among them, insisting she must leave, right now. She would not tell me what they had shown her, only that I would know when the time came, and that I would need someone outside, someone they would not look for. She was never sick, as I told the king at her request. I believe now that she Saw, or was shown what was coming. Not long after birthing Morgana, her mother just seemed to give up. I never told Gorlois that she drank hemlock of her own accord. Nor that she wasn’t alone. There were some whom I believe _chose_ a clean death instead of watching the Purge each night only to end on the pyre. I can’t even say it wasn’t the right decision. You will find her not far over the border. Cenred’s Kingdom, where even Uther yet fears to go. Go to Hunith and she with aid you, as she has aided others. Do not contact me. If I

do not know where you are… the witchfinder cannot use me to find you. I no longer can be certain of Uther’s reactions as I have been for so many years.”

 

Geoffrey drank deeply of the wine and closed his eyes, looking older than he had before they began. “You know, in the books that burned today, before the girl burned, there is mention of a time like this, a draining of Magic from land and sea, a time of great cruelty and darkness that covers Albion. They tell of the end of it at the hands of a golden King, the ‘Once and Future King’, and a warlock bound to him, Emrys, the most powerful to ever grace the Earth. Perhaps we should not so quickly give up on the hope of the darkness fading and the return of the light.”

Balinor scoffed. “Stories. Fairytales to soothe the nightmares of children. Nothing more Geoffrey.”  
He opened one eye and leaned in, towards the Dragonlord. “Your own tales mention him too. Don’t tell me you can shrug off the prophecies of dragons so easily, or the meaning of him coming from Dragonlord stock.”

Balinor glared. “Whoever shared our history with you, missed a lot out, and I certainly don’t have any to inherit The Gift.”

Gaius chose then to intervene.

“We have tarried too long. Go in peace Lord Balinor, may the goddess protect you. Be careful, and be fast.” The older man pulled him in for a quick hug

“My Lord.” The younger man inclined his head but his eyes managed to mock the words,

“Not any more my friend, and I fear, never again. Fly far and fly high. Remind Hunith of me, tell her she is missed, and that she was right. She was always right.”

Balinor reached out to grasp the Court Archivist’s hand firmly, “Thank you Geoffrey, for taking responsibility, though it will never ease my conscience or my pain.”

“Nor my own boy, nor my own. This wrong we shall carry to the next world.”

“Then I shall see you on the other side.” He paused and looked straight in the eyes of the man who still hoped.

“You were always a seeker of truth Geoffrey. Don’t forget it. One day it shall matter more than anything.” Then he was gone, leaving two old men wondering if it might not have been better to let the kingdom go to ruin than witness the full horror of what Uther would inflict.

The next morning there was no trace left of the Dragonlord or his kin, and neither Gaius nor Geoffrey spoke of him, even when he ‘escaped’ after Uther lured him back to Camelot and trapped the Great Dragon. After that he simply disappeared, stopping his flight only for a last glimpse of the woman he loved, unaware of the son he was leaving when he slipped away in the night.

 

Years later when a gangly youth with his father’s dark hair, reckless use of magic, and disregard for titles stumbled awkwardly into the heart of Camelot Geoffrey would roll his eyes and wonder that he ever used the word graceful in relation to this clumsy idiot. Then roll them even harder at the fools who failed to notice anything about him barring his strangeness.

If Emrys was trying to wander about without using one of his senses no wonder he knocked things over. At least when he visited the Great dragon he managed to be a _little_ less obvious.

He’d worry about the boy getting caught, if it wasn’t for the fact that he had literally confessed his liberal use of magic to the whole council and walked away from it unharmed.

Watching the prince and the warlock together day by day Geoffrey began to think that maybe the darkness might be passing, and a ray of light had indeed been offered.

 


End file.
